


Maybe Don't Use The Royal We When Discussing Bear Wrestling

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Domination, Face-Fucking, Facial, Fellatio, Hair-pulling, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Verbal Humiliation, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 03:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15134237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: "In Russia," he had said, "we don't wrestle like this. We wrestle properly.""I suppose that you wrestle bears, too," said Kirk, but he was clearly rolling his eyes."Oh, yes," said Chekov, keeping his tone earnest, "but only in the name of friendly comradery."





	Maybe Don't Use The Royal We When Discussing Bear Wrestling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mysticgator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysticgator/gifts).
  * Translation into Magyar available: [Talán ne használdd a királyi többest, miközben medvékkel birkózásról beszélünk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15802809) by [onlydeadsoulscantdance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlydeadsoulscantdance/pseuds/onlydeadsoulscantdance)



> I know almost nothing about wrestling. Apologies if I got shit wrong.

Ensign Pavel Chekov stood in front of the door to Captain Kirk's quarters, and he wiped his sweaty hands against his pants.

His heart was beating very loudly, and he was shifting from foot to foot, trying to get comfortable, trying not to think too deeply about this.

Oh god.

It was all his own fault, for making that stupid joke.

* * *

It had started in the gymnasium - he, Sulu, and Kirk, standing around, watching a wrestling match.

... Chekov might have been bragging, just a bit.

But only a bit!

"In Russia," he had said, "we don't wrestle like this. We wrestle _properly_."

And okay, there might have been some eye rolling.

... he did it, at least partially, to rib everyone else.

That was the fun of it.

"I suppose that you wrestle bears, too," said Kirk, but he was clearly rolling his eyes.

"Oh, yes," said Chekov, keeping his tone earnest, "but only in the name of friendly comradery."

"Because the bears are your comrades?"

"Oh yes," said Chekov.

Sulu was, of course, rolling his eyes.

Kirk looked... interested.

Huh.

That wasn't expected.

"Do you know how to wrestle, ensign?"

"I've got some skill, yes," said Chekov. "Most of it is leverage."

"Leverage," Kirk said, only he was imitating Chekov's accent.

"Levvvvverage," Chekov said, concentrating on the "v" sound. 

Kirk snorted.

"You think you could beat me?"

"I could certainly try," said Chekov, trying to sound less scared than he felt. 

Um.

This was the _Captain_.

He ended up in scraps with various alien creatures all the time.

And here was Chekov, who sometimes wrestled when he was in the academy, because he was younger than everyone else and wanted to be seen as something other than everyone’s little brother. 

But still. 

Um. 

Okay.

But the ring was clear, and now the captain was taking his shirt off, and, well, what else was Chekov going to do?

He took his shirt off, and then they were squaring up, and... okay.

They were grappling. 

The Captain was taller and broader than Chekov, but Chekov was strong, and used to dealing with people being bigger than he was. 

The Captain wasn’t holding back, which was nice, and the both of them were squirming around on the mat, each of them trying to get some kind of up over the other one. 

And then Chekov got the Captain in a chokehold.

No way could it be that easy.

The Captain was gasping, but he was rigid, and he as trembling, just a bit.

Fuck.

The Captain was going to turn the tables, any second now, and then Chekov would be on the ground, looking up at the Captain. 

But...r the Captain was tapping out, and Chekov was letting go. 

And the Captain looked... embarrassed.

Huh.

Chekov needed to think, except that now he was being slapped on the back, and... well. 

Huh.

It had all happened very quickly, and then he was being led away.

By the Captain.

"Come visit me later, when we've both got off," said the Captain.

He was walking a bit funny.

Oh god.

Had Chekov done the Captain some kind of serious injury?

* * *

And then the Captain had asked Chekov to come to his quarters, and Chekov had images of what he was going to do after he got kicked off of the ship dancing in his head.

Oh _fuck_ , he was so dead.

His parents were going to kill him.

He was going to be a failure.

He was letting down the cause - which cause?

Every cause.

And then... the Captain was opening the door.

"Ensign Chekov," said the Captain, and he smiled at Chekov, a bit nervously.

"Captain," said Chekov. 

"Please, come in," said the Captain, and he stepped to the side.

Chekov was going to get a dressing down.

Oh god.

He'd never heard of someone getting dressed down _in_ the Captain's quarters, but then again, the Captain was unorthodox like that.

Okay.

He could do this.

"Have a seat," said the Captain, and he indicated the chair. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," said Chekov, and he perched on the edge of the chair, trying not to squirm too much, trying not to jiggle his leg.

He'd even worn his good uniform, in hopes of making a good impression.

"So," said the Captain, and he sat opposite Chekov, "I was... I was thinking."

"I'm very sorry," Chekov blurted out, and he was blushing "I won't tell anyone, just please don't demote me...."

"Demote?"

The Captain looked confused.

"Because... you know, because... I was... because I was disrespectful and did you an injury."

"... what are you talking about?"

"Wait," said Chekov. "I'm not in trouble?"

"Not that I'm aware of," said the Captain.

He looked faintly nonplussed.

"Oh," said Chekov.

"I was going to ask if you could... you know... maybe...."

The Captain was rubbing his hands together, and he looked embarrassed.

Chekov was still absorbing the fact that he wasn't going to be expelled from Starfleet.

"Hm?"

"I was wondering if you would be willing to possibly... some time in the future, possibly...."

"Possibly...?"

"I liked being put in a chokehold. By you. I liked it... a lot, and I've been... I've been feeling overwhelmed, and I know you wouldn't actually... tell anyone, or judge me, since you're a good man, but now is a good time to... um."

Chekov frowned.

The Captain looked nervous.

What was all of this about?

"Captain?"

"... Chekov, I'm not asking you this as your captain, I'm asking you this as your friend."

"My friend," Chekov echoed, somewhat stunned.

Um.

Well.

The two of them had gotten drunk together, had nearly died together... so okay, yeah, they were friends. 

Although what kind of friendship... thing was the Captain going to be asking for?

"And you are... quite attractive, as you no doubt know."

... okay, so Chekov was a bit known for tomcatting about the ship, but it wasn't like it was disallowed.

There wasn't enough to do on their off time.

... maybe he was gibbering, like something from that one twentieth century author.

What had his name been? 

Lovecraft? 

“I see you’re uninterested in any kind of intimacy,” said the Captain, and he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. We can… chalk this up to-”

Chekov’s mind raced.

Intimacy?

“What are you asking for?”

“I… I was wondering if you would possibly be interested in… in possibly some… sexual contact, of the… power exchange type.”

“... what?”

“I’d like you to dominate me,” Kirk said.

“Oh,” said Chekov. “Why?”

“Well,” said the Captain, “command is exhausting, and -” 

“No, no, I understand why you would want to be dominated. I’m asking why _me_?”

“... I liked how you put me in a chokehold,” said the Captain. “And… well, you are attractive, and if you can do _that_ to me physically, I thought you might be up for… other things.”

“Right,” said Chekov, and he licked his lips. 

“But of course, if you didn’t have an interest, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I… I would be interested, Captain,” said Chekov.

His cock was certainly interested.

He licked his lips, leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs. 

“You are?”

“Yes,” said Chekov. “But I’m not sure what it is you’re asking me for.”

“Dominate me. Like… like you’re stronger than me.”

The Captain’s eyes were getting darker, and he was licking his lips. 

“RIght,” said Chekov. “What are you… what are you not okay with?”

“Don’t spit on me, please. Or… piss on me, or anything like that.”

“Right,” said Chekov. “But otherwise, you’re… you’re good?”

“Nothing too visible, either,” the Captain said. 

He seemed to have some practice with this.

Hmm.

“Yes, Captain,” said Chekov.

“Call me Jim,” the Captain said quickly.

“And you will call me….”

What?

Pasha?

This didn’t seem like the right kind of situation for that.”

“You will call me ‘sir,’” Chekov said, his tone firm.

“Yes, sir,” said Jim, and he was looking downright stricken. 

“Get on the floor,” Chekov said, and he wasn’t even aware of what it was that he was saying, only that his cock was hard and pressing against his thigh, that his heart was beating desperately in his chest, that his face was heating up. 

“Yes, sir,” said Jim, and he was… he was doing it.

Sinking down and off of his chair, to sit on the floor.

And he was… he was looking up at Chekov, his expression borderline desperate.

“Crawl… crawl up to me. Sit in front of me.”

Chekov’s voice cracked, but the Captain didn’t seem to care. 

He did as he was told, crouching on the floor in front of Chekov, looking up with those gorgeous blue eyes.

“Yes, sir,” said Jim, and he was trembling, just a bit.

“Tell me what you want,” Chekov said, and he tried to make his voice sound commanding. 

“I want… anything you want, sir,” said Jim, his voice rough.

“What if I want… what I want is for you to suck my cock,” Chekov said. 

“Can you… can you say dirty stuff to me?” 

“What kind of dirty stuff?”

“Call me… call me names.”

“Like… slut?”

The Captain shuddered, and his mouth fell open. 

“Yeah,” Jim said, and he had his hands on Chekov’s thighs, pressing closer. “Please?”

“Please what, slut?” 

Chekov leaned back into his seat, and he spread his legs a little wider.

“Please, sir, let me… let me suck your cock. Please.”

And Chekov… buried his hand in Jim’s hair, forced the Captain to look up at him. 

Jim’s eyes were wide, and his face was red.

He looked slightly spacey, but his fingers were sure as they pushed Chekov’s pants down.

Chekov’s cock sprang forward, and there was a pause, as Kirk looked at it, then into Chekov’s face.

Chekov was used to it - most men these days weren’t circumcised, so there was always that moment. 

But then Kirk kept eye contact, and he was leaning forward, wrapping his lips around the very tip of Chekov’s cock.

“Fuck,” Chekov said, his voice thick.

“Please, sir,” JIm said, “please… fuck my face.”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes please, yes, please, sir!”

Chekov took Jim’s cheek into his hand, and then he moved his hand lower, to Jim’s jaw.

He dug his thumb into the hinge of Jim’s jaw, and Jim’s mouth popped open.

Chekov… Chekov used his free hand to guide his cock forward, and he rubbed the wet head along Jim’s lips.

Jim moaned, shuddering and opening his mouth wider, and then Chekov was sliding his cock into Jim’s mouth, his other hand on the back of Jim’s head.

Jim took Chekov’s cock all the way down, with no gagging.

… huh.

That was impressive.

How did Jim not have a gag reflex?

Chekov shuddered as his cock hit the back of Jim’s throat, and then it was going deeper, and Chekov gasped.

“Fuck, you’re… you’re such a slut, just… taking it, fuck, it’s so deep….”

Jim made a desperate noise around Chekov’s cock, but he didn’t try to pull off.

He was bobbing his head, and there was drool pooling on Chekov’s balls, but Chekov wasn’t going to complain, Chekov was just going to keep fucking Jim’s face.

“You like my cock in… in your mouth, you’ll be on… on the bridge tomorrow, and then you’ll… fucking… have a sore… fuck!”

Chekov’s hips were stuttering forward, and his hands were both buried in Jim’s hair. 

Jim was awkwardly moving his tongue, his cock surrounded by the wet, velvety heat. 

He was muttering obscenities - some of them in Russian, admittedly, which Jim wasn’t going to understand, but it was the principle of the thing, right?

He lost himself in the sweetness of it, he was… god, he was fucking his Captain’s face, and then he was about to cum, how did that happen?

He was nearly twenty one - it wasn’t like he was some kid fumbling around in his cadet dorm anymore.

But… oh, fuck, Jim as good at this.

Painfully good - Chekov was going to cum, he was so close already, as Jim clung to Chekov’s thighs.

Without even thinking, Chekov pulled his cock out, and then he was… aiming it at Jim’s face, and he was cumming across Jim’s face.

… shit.

Oh, fuck, he should have asked, oh….

“Thank you, sir,” said Jim, his voice rough. “Thank you for letting me… letting me be a receptacle for your cum, thank you, sir….”

He sounded borderline hysterical, and he was licking the cum that was dripping down his face.

“What do you need, Jim?”

“Can you… pin me down, please, pin me down?”

And Chekov… Chekov got on the floor, push his hands on Jim’s shoulders, and he forced Jim onto his back, and his knee was pressed between Jim’s thighs, right up against Jim’s cock.

Jim was pinned effectively by Chekov’s arms across his chest, Chekov’s full weight on him, and he was wheezing, just a bit, he was thrashing, panting, gasping, and he was… wow, holy fuck, Jim as humping against his thigh, he was trying to get some leverage, as the cum ran down his face.

He was sobbing, he was groaning, and he couldn’t really move, as he just… thrashed, as Chekov stayed on top of him.

“You’re… you’re getting off like this, aren’t you, being pinned by your ensign, with my cum all over your face, and I’m not that much bigger than you, but you’re just taking it, yes, do it, keep humping my thigh, do it, fuck, do it, _do it_.”

Chekov was rising and falling, very faintly, with the rise and fall of Jim’s chest, and then Jim’s back was arching off of the floor, as much as it could, and he was crying.

Jim came in his pants, against Chekov’s thigh, still thrashing, still gasping, and then Chekov as rolling off of Jim, also flat on his back. 

“Fuck,” Jim said, and his voice cracked. 

He might need some throat spray.

“Maybe next time,” Chekov said, making a vague hand motion to indicate “later.”

“So was that like wrestling a bear?”

Chekov groaned, covered his face with both hands.

“It wasn’t… in the spirit of comradery,” Chekov said, when he could speak without giggling.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Kirk, in that same voice he’d used right before sucking Chekov’s cock.

Chekov’s cock twitched.

“Do better next time,” Chekov said, in an instructional tone of voice.

“Yes, sir,” said Jim. “So there’ll be a next time?”

“Oh, definitely,” said Chekov. “I mean, uh… if you want there to be.”

“Maybe next time I can take my pants off,” Jim said, and he sounded faintly amused. 

“Sounds like a plan,” said Chekov, and tried not to lick his lips as he watched some more of of cum drip down Jim’s face. 

That… was a lot sexier than it had a right to be.

… oh god.

He was going to have to be on the bridge, look at the Captain, and remember this.

Fuck.

… oh well.

Totally worth it.


End file.
